Allura of Arus
by feey
Summary: From shy princess to a pilot of Voltron to confident queen, Allura had her own journey to standing as protector and ruler of Arus. Ch. 1: The year after Sven's departure to Ebb and her training as Blue's pilot (in which Nanny is NOT a happy camper)
The day that Sven left for Ebb was bright and gorgeous. Had it not been for the team member they were losing, it would have been perfect. They all stood by, silent, as the navigator was loaded onto the ship, still and asleep in the protected med-chamber. Keith stood apart, talking quietly to the captain and the nurse who would accompany the ship on the emergency trip to Ebb.

Pidge fidgeted next to her. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, earning a surprised, and gratified, smile.

"We were the only team," he whispered, "Who never lost anyone."

Lance's eyes flashed, but he stayed silent, lips pressed tightly together. Hunk kicked the ground, and then went to double check the engine, one final time, before the ship took off for the stars. It was dusk.

When the ship could no longer be seen, Koran and Nanny went inside. Nanny had given her a sharp look, but Allura stayed. She and Sven had become friends quickly, and she felt his loss, a dull ache she knew was nothing next to what the others were feeling. They all stood in silence, watching the trail left by the ship until it faded away. The twilight settled around them, and while the dinner bell rang, none were hungry.

Keith and Lance were the first to move, abrupt turns away from the landing pad that betrayed their anguish. Keith gripped Lance's shoulder, and the pilot exhaled.

"Should have been me," he whispered hoarsely. Keith shook the hand that still gripped Lance's shoulder, shaking his head at the same time.

"No," his voice was hard. "And I'm not arguing with you anymore on this." Letting go, the commander walked silently towards the side of the palace that was still little used, being half in rubble. Lance followed, shoulders hunched as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Pidge and Hunk turned to go as well, and Hunk raised an eyebrow when she remained where she was.

"I … I would just like a moment," she said softly, and he nodded.

"We'll be joining Keith and Lance in a bit," he said, "Want us to grab you on the way over?"

She stared at him, stunned. The other two smiled, though sadly.

"You won't be intruding," Pidge said. "And Sven considered you one of his friends, so you has as much of a right to be there as we do."

Squashing her inner protests, she smiled tremulously. "I'd like that." They nodded and turned, leaving her to her contemplations.

Sometime later they found Lance and Keith sitting in an abandoned courtyard, half-finished glasses of what smelled like the grain spirit popular on Arus. Lance was strumming absently on a _glita_ , a stringed instrument he said was similar to an Earth instrument known as a guitar. The chords were simple, the tune aimless.

Neither said anything when she sat down, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her knees. A most unladylike position, Nanny would have said, but she didn't give a damn at the moment.

More tuneless fingerings came out of the _glita_ until they solidified into the steady beat she had come to call 'the story tune' in her mind.

"They say that Kirk was the spacers' captain," he began, a sing-song-y voice to accompany the beat of the _glita_. "But that Picard was the philosophers'. This is the story; listen, now, to the story of Picard and Dathon at El-Adrel."

Listen they did, putting all of their attention into absorbing Lance's words. It was easier, and it dulled the pain that had been eating at them for the past few days. They lost themselves in the tale of two men, unable to communicate and stranded in the hope that communication would be possible. She jumped at the energy beast, fought back tears at the fall of Dathon. Near her, she heard Pidge sniffle.

"A language that used not nouns and verbs to make an image, but images themselves, colouring their stories beyond Terran belief. Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra—the bond of brothers, built through adversity." His voice trailed off, his fingers pulling a few more bars of the story-telling tune from the _glita_ before they faltered and a pained look flashed across his face.

This was where Sven stepped in, matching Lance story for story. But Jalad wasn't here to sit by Darmok's side.

Pidge and Hunk looked panicked. Allura knew stories, but she knew it wouldn't be _right_. And she didn't know what she would say, anyway.

The last note faded as the four of them looked at each other, faces mixes of horror, grief, and consternation. And then…

"Ulysses was a man," Keith said softly, his eyes unfocused. "A man who excelled in plots and stratagems beyond measure." His voice increased in volume gradually, as he spoke, almost chanted, the tale. Lance recovered to lend an accompanying beat, different from the story-tune, to Keith's words.

"Hear the Muses' tale of owl-quick Athene's favourite, Odysseus, whose mind held as many tricks as the colours woven into the sky. Listen to his suffering on the broad, broad sea, barren and hard. It is there he met the son of Poseidon, who would be his bane though he was victorious, and it is there he landed on Scherie, doomed land that would see him home."

She listened, entranced by the tale. It was obviously a long story, and Keith only told part of it.

"Down to Hades' gate he went, Ulysses in search of his future. He spilled the blood of the black ram, for the blameless seer who had offended the gods. Sword drawn, he waited for Tiresias, once woman. And there, amongst the shades, he saw one that made his heart cry out. But will as he might, he could not let his mother drink the black blood.

"At long last, blameless Tiresias pushed his way through the crowd, and divine Odysseus let him drink. Fixing him with life-bright eyes, Tiresias spoke."

As Keith spoke, she felt a dim presence in the back of her mind, as if someone was watching and appraising her. But she let it go in order to focus on the other presence she felt, one emanating from the commander himself. She felt safe and that, somehow, things would be okay. The pinched faces around her were still wan with grief, but not burdened by it.

"'Such is your fate, son of Laeertes. You have offended Poseidon by blinding his son. You will return to home burdened by guests, unknown to your honoured wife. You must take back your home, but your journey does not end there. Sail from Ithaka, then cross the black earth with an oar over your shoulder. At long last you will come to a land where food lacks in salt, and men know nothing of the barren sea. There you will establish a temple to the Earthshaker Poseidon, where a man asks why you carry a fan with you.'

"The shade shuddered and departed. Odysseus looked around, and with a cry of sorrow let his dear mother drink, to hear of home. Of his aged father, of his no-longer young son, and of his long-suffering wife."

They had needed a story, to remember that they could be strong in adversity. So Keith had told them of this Ulysses-Odysseus, who never stopped being strong, though he broke down from time to time.

"Tears streamed from his eyes, he wept with his beloved mother until she turned, pain too great for her shade to bear, and returned to oblivion and Hades' dim world. Then the great Achilles strode forth, and noble Agamemnon, comrades from Troy. But though trice-clever Odysseus saw brave Aias and called out to him, anger still stirred his strong heart, dead though he was, and divine Aias would not come forth."

When he stopped, Ulysses' descent to the underworld complete, Lance stilled the strings of the _glita_.

"Thanks," he whispered. Keith just smiled tightly and nodded.

"I needed the story too," he said softly. Silence settled over them all again, though this time it was companionable instead of stifling, as they all turned to the stars, willing the ship to arrive at its destination safely.

* * *

 _/ 1 week later /_

She found Keith staring at a piece of paper, cold coffee sitting forgotten on the edge of the table. The commander's face was tired—Coran said he had been running into Keith at night often this past week—and held a combination of emotions. Frustration, self-incrimination, anger. Uncertainty, grief.

It had been hard on them all since Sven had been attacked and left for the doctors of Ebb. She knew something of the self-incriminatory, angry but despairing inner voice that she suspected was going through the commander's head. It had gone through hers often enough since the Drules started attacking, more so since Lotor had started offering a (false) option for stopping the Drule attack on her people.

The self-doubt of the leader, reinforced by loss.

No, she did not want to be Keith right now. She wanted to help the commander, but they weren't close enough for her to be sure of how to do so in a way that would be effective. Bland platitudes never worked in these situations, and she knew Keith well enough to know that they would never be helpful for him. The commander held himself to too high a standard for maxims and sayings to work.

But she had a different purpose in being here now, late into the night. Knocking on the frame, she stood in the doorway. Keith looked over, setting the paper down as he did so.

"Can I help you Princess?" Always so formal, was the commander. Nanny liked that, far more than Lance's reckless familiarity. She had tried telling Keith that he could call her by her given name, that titles weren't worth much at the moment, but he would always smile and shrug, not pushing the issue but calling her 'Princess' nonetheless.

"Do you have a moment?" she entered the room and, when he nodded, took a seat across from him. She sighed, not entirely sure how to start. Keith settled back in his chair, waiting her out.

"I just talked to Blue," she settled on finally, looking him in the eye.

Keith, to his credit, managed to keep his surprise fairly contained. But then, maybe semi-sentient robot lions weren't that strange to the Terran commander anymore. Or perhaps Black had warned him; she wasn't sure how much the Lions were sharing with their pilots, or even how much they were talking to each other.

"What did Blue say?" he asked after a moment. She didn't miss that his eyes fell down to the papers on his desk on his right.

"That if you and Black agree, I'm to be the new Blue Lion pilot until Sven gets back." Her voice sounded brittle in her ears, and she wondered offhandedly if Keith could hear the tension; he would certainly be able to see it. Her body felt like a whip cord, and not only because she was asking the commander of the Voltron Force for his permission to join.

Coran and Nanny didn't know that she had been sensing a steady presence in the back of her mind. They didn't know that she had decided that, if Blue and Keith agreed, she would learn to pilot the Blue Lion in Sven's place. Nor did they know of her resolve to take a more active part in her planet's defense, that she had decided that she would _not_ be the fabled princess of childhood stories, witty and beautiful but ultimately unable to protect herself. Whatever it took, she would do.

Coran she wasn't (too) worried about. She could make him see her point; her father's long-time friend had always been susceptible to a well-reasoned argument, and especially to an argument of duty. Nanny, however, was a different story, and the thought of having to explain to the forceful woman that she was not going to be a sugar-spun princess anymore filled her with trepidation.

But this was war, and it was time she grew up.

Keith sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Was this your idea, or Blue's?"

She shrugged. "I could feel Blue this past week," Keith's eyebrows went up briefly, "but we didn't talk until I went down today. I brought it up first, but I don't think I was the only one of us to have the idea."

"No, probably not." He stood up and walked over to the window behind him. She could see part of his face as he looked out; with his eyes slightly unfocused and his face relaxed, she thought that he was talking to Black.

"Why?" he asked after a few moments, turning around to lean against the window as he faced her.

"Why…?"

"Why do you want to become Blue's pilot?" he clarified, crossing his arms as he now looked her straight in the eye, eyes suddenly sharply focused. She stiffened under his gaze, aware, once more, of the inner fire that had propelled this young man far beyond his peers. "You don't know how to fly, except for basic 'craft, and besides the basic self-defense and shooting that Monmerce tells me he drilled into everyone after the Drules came, you don't know how to fight. There's going to be a steep learning curve for both of those, and you'll be putting yourself into the line of fire daily, sometimes more depending on what Zarkon throws at us."

She could feel the angry response building in her, crying to shout that she was no child, of course she knew this!

"What I'm asking Princess," he paused, "is, knowing all of this, why do you still want to fly? And how can I be sure that I won't be putting you and the others in danger because of it?" Keith's voice was tired and hard, and she could hear the pain that he was trying so hard to hide. Sven, again. The anger dissolved, but her resolve had not, as she raised her chin and kept her gaze steady.

"You all came from so far away because we needed help," she began, "And for the first time since even before my father was killed, I have seen hope on people's faces. At first I thought it was because of Voltron, of the myths coming true, or that because you were beating the Drules. People weren't dying. And those things are still important."

"But …" Keith said softly as she paused to gather her thoughts, not really sure why she was going this way, instead of the carefully planned argument she had developed on her way over.

Nodding, she continued.

"But what is giving my people hope again is that they have been given a reason to _do something helpful_. They helped restore Voltron: when we couldn't find Black's key, they helped Pidge find it. They have realized that they can live above ground, and they are restoring their homes. When Sven," her voiced cracked a bit, "When Sven was injured, they could have gone back to the caves. They know as well as you and I that Voltron needs all five Lions to form."

"But they didn't," Keith said. "I know. They came to the palace and asked what we needed them to do, to help protect Arus."

"We have become stronger by remembering that we _can fight_. We had forgotten that, and so dissipated into the shadows." She sighed, and then plowed ahead. "Yes, I can only fly basic 'craft. Yes, I know little of hand-to-hand combat, and while my aim is good, I've had most practice with a bow, not a gun. But commander, I am no fragile flower to be crushed underfoot. I will learn to fly, and learn to fight.

"You ask me why? I am the princess of Arus. My father is dead. I am now responsible for my people's safety; me, not the remnants of the Council drawn up by my father. I asked for your help when you arrived, looking for him; his debt to Garrison is maintained by my choice. Right now, this is what my people need: Voltron, whole and able to fight. And I will not ask others to stand in my place when I am well able to stand in it myself."

She waited, silent, as he digested her words, his face pensive. Her fingers longed to twist themselves into the fabric of her dress; she forced her hands to remain quiet, folding her nervous fingers on top of one another, resting her hands on her lap.

Keith took his seat again, shaking his head as he did so.

"You were a stubborn kid, weren't you?" he asked, a wry smile lighting his face some. Surprised, she let out a brief laugh.

"I could be, yes."

"Black says I should trust Blue's decision, and I have been reassured by Black that Blue did not badger you into this. So…" He sighed, running both hands through his hair and pulling at the roots as he looked down at his desk.

She bit the inside of her lip, unsure as to where he was going.

"Ah, what the hell," he threw his hands in the air and leaned back in the chair, looking her in the eye. "I can't say no to your reasons, not without being called a hypocrite six ways to Sunday by Lance."

 _Six ways to Sunday_? She thought before the implication of his statement processed.

"So…?"

"So that means we'll give it a shot." He smiled ruefully. "You'll get flying lessons from Lance, and probably Hunk too, since Yellow's the other leg. And I'm going to make sure that you can hold your own against any Drule, or group of the bastards."

She grinned.

"But if I have any doubts," he cautioned, leaning forward, "Then I'm pulling the plug and we find someone else to pilot Blue, got it?"

"That's only fair," she replied, nodding. "I don't want to put anyone in danger."

"Ok, good." He seemed satisfied. "One more thing. We had agreed that when it came to defense, Monmerce and I hold equal rank just below yours."

She nodded. They had both been firm on that; Monmerce handled the castle and Keith Voltron, and the command of the Arusian forces (what was left, at any rate) was technically shared between them, though Monmerce handled most of the day to day matters. Keith primarily had a hand in the overall strategy and their orders.

"But when we're flying? Princess, this will only work if at that time, I hold rank as your commanding officer. I don't care too much on hierarchies—the team set-up is too detached from Garrison for them to really work anyway—but when we're fighting, I need to be able to give orders and be confident in them being carried out when I say so."

"I understand," she said slowly. "And I can work with that. I don't think Coran will have a problem with it, and Monmerce will likely agree with you on this point."

"Good."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Keith grinned suddenly, leaning back. " _You_ get to break this news to Nanny and Coran. And be ready for O-seven-hundred tomorrow: you and Lance are having your first flying lesson straight-away."

She mock saluted, grinning herself.

As she stood, Keith rose with her, holding out his hand. When she extended hers (Pidge had told her about the weird thing called a 'hand-shake' that the Terrans did), Keith took it and moved their hands up and down in a firm motion.

"Welcome to the Force … Allura."

* * *

"So what did you say?" Lance asked the next day as they walked to the dining hall after her first flight lesson, where she hoped there would be some breakfast left. It hadn't gone too bad, though Lance had started by complaining about the addition to his schedule, particularly the _time_. Halfway through, he had apologized, though she couldn't blame him. 0-seven hundred was fine for getting up, but to _be_ up and ready? Too early.

"To Keith?" she asked, seeking clarification. She had spoken to Nanny and Coran after her talk with Keith; one had gone alright, while the other…

"No, what you said to Nanny." He rolled his eyes. "Of course Keith."

Allura made a face, remembering the tirade from the previous night.

"Actually…" Lance grinned. "I want to guess. What did he say _after_ you gave your little speech explaining why you want to join the suicide squad?"

She snorted. "Better not let him catch you saying that." Lance just laughed. "He said that you would call him a hypocrite several ways to Sunday if he said no."

"Knew it," Lance was grinning, mischief literally dancing across his face. No wonder Nanny thought he was trouble. "You said something about how it's your duty to care for your people now and how you can't ask anyone else to put themselves in danger on your behalf, right?"

She looked at him, hard, out of the corner of her eye. "Have you bugged his office?"

"Now there's an idea…," Lance smiled, a pensive look on his face. "But no. However, you and Keith are the VPs of what I, affectionately, have labelled the 'noble character club.' He said I'd call him a hypocrite because if your positions were reversed," Lance hauled open the door the hall, "He'd say the same thing."

"I suppose you're right," she mused.

"Of course I am, and I should know. I argued with him enough on the topic." He paused, scouting along the line. "Dammit, there's nothing left. Hunk must have been hungry."

"The kitchen should still be open," she turned, beckoning him towards one of the side doors. "What is a vee-pee?"

"Huh? Oh, it's short for 'vice-president', which is a high-up position. Sometimes it just means an important person."

"And the several ways to Sunday thing?"

Lance looked at her blankly, until his face lit up. "Six ways to Sunday?" She nodded. "That's an old saying; Keith must have picked it up from me, or one of the instructors—not really something he'd have gotten from Japan, I'd guess. My aunt used to say it all the time. Sunday is the last day of the week, according to the Western Terran calendar. Or is it the first? I guess it depended on the calendar…" Lance trailed off, looking thoughtful, "Well, I suppose it could be either. Anyway, it's either the first or the last day of the week—please don't ask me why, Pidge's probably looked it up though—and there are seven days in a week, so six before Sunday."

They had reached the kitchen. No one was around, but there was a breakfast basket left out on the sideboard, with a note attached to it. She started unpacking, trying to keep up as Lance continued explaining the idiom and set out two plates.

"The saying basically means that you can do the same basic thing in different ways. And Keith's right; if he had said no after your rousing speech on duty and whatnot—" she rolled her eyes at him—"then I would have called him a hypocrite in every way I could have found. And probably repeated the good ones."

"I didn't say yes just to save face, you know."

Allura had to force herself not to laugh, but it was hard when Lance levitated at the sound of Keith's voice.

Keith was leaning on the kitchen doorframe, grinning.

"We talked about this!" Lance glared. "I don't sneak up on you, you don't sneak up on me!"

"Actually," Keith walked over and snagged a roll from the basket, "You _decided_ not to sneak up on me after I almost broke your nose the last time."

"Trigger-happy son-of-a-bitch," Lance muttered.

"And besides," Keith continued, grinning, "It was too good an opportunity to miss."

Allura chuckled, which earned her the force of Keith's attention.

"Don't eat too much," he cautioned. "Pidge thinks we've got some breathing room. We're on. Hand-to-hand in half an hour."

She nodded, but he was already out the door, Lance still glaring at him.

"Easy food to digest," Lance suggested as she turned her attention back to her breakfast. "If I'm any judge, he's going to push you hard."

"No doubt there," she sighed, worrying the bottom of her lip as the immediate future promised to be painful for both her body and pride.

Lance gave her a lopsided grin. "Yeah, must've been thinking of _another_ Keith Kogane, a sane one." She laughed, and he continued, more serious. "Don't worry about how it goes. Keith's a firm believer in pummeling you on day one, so he can figure out what you know, what your bad habits are, yadda yadda."

"He can do that in one go?"

Lance shrugged. "More or less," he said as he eyed the rough sandwich he had made. "Before he started at Garrison, his uncle had him teaching beginners, or whatever that level was called. The WaT guys were practically tripping over themselves when Keith showed up and declared for them."

"Weapons and Tactics," Lance clarified when she opened her mouth to ask. "It's one of the most popular streams at Garrison for cadets to declare—you get to shoot guns every day, which is great—but they graduate the fewest. Most drop out or transfer to another stream after year one."

"It's that difficult?" Allura was shocked, but she supposed it made sense.

Lance nodded, waiting to finish chewing before he spoke, she noted wryly. Nanny's lecture from the other day must still be echoing in his ears. "Yeah," he said at last. "Well, think of it this way: Keith is their ideal student, and _he_ was still studying all hours. It's the Tactics half that really gets everyone, but you can't do one without the other, even if you specialize in one half."

"Did Keith?"

Lance snorted. "He did, but then he cleared the Weapons req's a year and a half early. Hawkins had recruited us all by then and wouldn't let Keith graduate early, since he'd be poached by one of the cruisers, so he had to go through the Tac's half. Fucking brainiac."

"Sergeant McClain!" A loud voice suddenly echoed behind them.

"Fuck!" Lance looked around quickly and dropped his breakfast. "I'm off, Princess. Good luck with the Chief!"

She laughed as he dashed out, just as Nanny stormed into the kitchen, fuming at his language.

* * *

 _/ 1 month later /_

 _And things were going so well_ …

She fidgeted in the hallway, out of earshot from the room in which Nanny had cornered Keith. The impulse to die from sheer embarrassment fought with that to storm in and yell at Nanny herself; right now mortified indecision was winning.

 _A princess should not be getting dirty, learning how to fight and becoming bruised!_ She had heard Nanny loudly and firmly lecturing the commander. She didn't know if he had tried to reply; Nanny had continued, complaining about her state of attire, her messy hair, and the spectacular set of bruises she had developed learning how to defend herself and attack.

 _She will need to marry soon!_ Nanny had exclaimed, making her wince. Always this marriage! What was she, a brood mare? _How will she get a good prince, looking like she's been fighting for her life? What good is this, with you boys around to defend her?_

Allura had almost stormed in then, but then…

 _A princess should not be piloting the Blue Lion! Why have you humoured her in this?_

And then the million self-doubts that she kept bottled up came flooding out, and she turned on her heels and ran down the hall, to where she couldn't hear Nanny and where she would wait for Keith to come out, to apologize. To say that if Nanny was right, that he was humouring her, he could stop and she'd no longer take up any of his valuable time.

She forced back tears, biting her lip to keep from swearing, possibly to try out the new swears she'd learned from Lance and Pidge.

A knock on the wall startled her out of her anxious fretting and she looked over to see Keith standing in front of the alcove she hovered in.

"I was going to warn you that Nanny's on the warpath," he said—sadly? she wasn't sure what hid behind his words, his face hidden by the afternoon shadows—"But it looks like you heard some of it, at least."

"I walked by when she was complaining about the dirt under my fingers," she said, faltering a bit, "And left when she started on you humouring me."

Keith swore, to her surprise. She associated swearing with Lance and Pidge (Hunk generally only cursed when he dropped something on his foot, which was, according to the etiquette books she'd been forced to read, only slightly acceptable); she had never heard Keith swear before.

"Let's go to Black's plinth," he sighed. "She's looking for you in the palace, so if we're on the moat side, she shouldn't be able to find us."

Nodding, she smiled weakly. "How many hiding spots have you found?" she asked as they walked quickly.

Keith snorted. "Not as many as Pidge and Lance, but then I haven't needed to. Mostly if I look busy she leaves me alone."

"She thinks you're the responsible one."

"Not anymore, I'll wager." He wouldn't say anymore, though, until they were at the plinth.

She looked out towards the fields on the other side of the moat, the sun just beginning to set and tinge the sky with red. A slight scrabbling noise beside her caused her to turn, in time to see Keith finish scaling the base of the plinth.

"How'd you get up there?" she asked, surprised out her anxiety for a moment. Keith grinned, leaning over precariously to help her scramble up, far less quickly and less gracefully than he had.

"My cousin claims I'm part monkey," he paused, then elaborated, "They're a smallish mammal, distantly related to humans, and live in trees. They can climb just about anything, and often get into a lot trouble.

"Remind me when we get somewhere with a computer and I'll pull up an image; there's probably something here similar."

She nodded, and he sighed. "Back to Nanny then."

"Keith, I'm so sorry—" she began but he shook his head, stopping her.

"Allura, it's not your job to keep her happy, or out of the way. Don't apologize for her." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and she worried her bottom lip, tense but keeping silent.

 _A sense of calm falls, she is supported by friends._

She blinked furiously, surprised, her mouth open a little. She looked over at Keith, whose eyes had suddenly lit up in amusement.

"Blue just sent you an emotion, didn't he?" he asked, a smile tugging on his lips. "It's weird, isn't it?"

She nodded, unsure what to say, but oh so thankful for the weight that had been taken off her shoulders. Keith chuckled.

"I'd say you'll get used to it, but I know I haven't yet. Pidge handles it pretty well; S… Sven had no problems, after the first few." His eyes dulled in pain, but he forced himself to continue.

"I'm guessing you were gone by the time Nanny let me speak?" She nodded. "Ok, well, I'll tell you what I told her, condensed form." He sighed.

"One, I'm not humouring you. If I had any doubts, we wouldn't be here right now; I said that on day one, and I meant it." Of course he had, she chided herself silently; he didn't have the luxury of indulging her right now.

"Two, you're a member of my team, which means you fight and defend those around you, your teammates, and yourself by whatever means necessary—and if that means you get dirty and bruised now instead of dead later, she's just going to have to deal with it. I told her I'm not going through… going through _that_ again, which means you have to be able to take care of yourself.

"And three," he exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes, "Marriage? Really?"

She laughed, the tension draining out at his incredulity. "Since I was, I don't know, 5? Nanny has been going on about how I will marry a handsome prince who will take care of me and Arus."

It was Keith's turn to be speechless in surprise, and she smiled sadly.

"My grandmother, before she passed, took me aside one day and said that it was all nice and good for Nanny to have such dreams, but I couldn't afford them. 'A princess who thinks only of marriage is a princess not fit to rule' she said. 'You are more than your nuptials, young lady, and don't you dare think otherwise.'"

"I think I like her more than Nanny," Keith said, with some feeling. She smiled wryly.

"I think she'd say the same about you." He looked surprised, and gratified.

"Well," he paused, "anyway, I told Nanny off for thinking that you had only to marry and our problems would be solved and for not thinking that you could handle things on your own."

She was shocked; no one had stood up to Nanny on the subject of her marriage before. "Thank you," she said, grateful and a little embarrassed.

Keith shrugged, a little embarrassed himself, she thought. "I'm your commanding officer now," he said softly. "And you're a part of _my_ team. So I will go to bat for you whenever you need it, no matter what." He snorted, "I've certainly had the practice, with Lance."

She grinned, sharing in the joke. She didn't know the idiom, but she understood the sense behind it.

"You're going to have to start standing up to her though," Keith continued, more soberly.

"I know," she whispered, drawing her knees up and resting her chin on them. "I've known it for months now."

"Whatever you need us to do," Keith reached over and clasped her shoulder, "You got it, ok?"

"Thanks." He smiled and squeezed her shoulder before letting go. They sat there in a companionable silence, watching the sun set over the fields. It was a rare moment of peace, one that they had had too little of over the past year.

The clock struck the dinner hour, and they left their perch, with Keith jumping down first and steadying her when she landed.

"Hey Keith," she asked suddenly as they walked in. He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Any tips?"

Laughing, he just shook his head. "Ask Hunk; he's got a harridan of a sister-in-law. Or Lance, but be careful there."

* * *

 _/ Several weeks later /_

Things went back and forth, some days better than others, with minor attacks by the Drules. The lack of anything major had Keith fretting, and Lance trying to force the commander to take care of himself. Bocar's attempt to kidnap her and the Blue Lion actually had Keith relax some; apparently knowing that Zarkon was willing to allow Hagar to "sneak in" (Hunk's summary) meant that he and Monmerce would be better able to predict potential attacks. Lance had them all on stand-by (wherever that phrase had come from, it sounded appropriate for the intent) until he needed help dealing with Keith. Allura just hoped he wouldn't need to call on them, and that if he did, he'd be able to Hunk or Pidge first. They knew Keith better than her, and she had her own problems.

After Bocar's failed kidnapping attempt, Nanny had, if anything, become more protective and insistent on her _not_ flying Blue. Finally having her fill of it, she went to Hunk, who turned pensive and then asked if he could enlist Lance. After her own pensive moment, she nodded.

The next day, when Nanny made a comment about the state of her nails, Allura stared her down. Startled, Nanny let it go. And so, for the next few days, Allura thought she had made some progress. That she had somehow convinced Nanny to let her continue as she saw fit, that is, fighting for her people instead of waiting for some prince to come by. The guys were keeping an eye on things, she could tell, and she was okay with that. If they hadn't been a team, if they hadn't been in this together, she wouldn't have been. But she could tell that they were watching and letting her deal with it as long as she could. When she couldn't, no doubt one of them would step in, though she hoped it wouldn't get that far and that if it did, they would handle whatever it would be in a way that didn't send Nanny _back_ to thinking of her as a soft wildflower.

She should have known better. After a fairly ridiculous session with Keith, who had suddenly decided that it was imperative she learn how to fight in her formal dresses as well as she could in her flight uniform (cause that was going to happen…), Nanny had accosted her.

 _Probably has something to do with Keith tying the dress in knots …_ she thought to herself as she strode through the hallways, trying her best to ignore Nanny's prattling about 'proper' princess behaviour. A lot of which, to her increasing frustration, involved finding the 'right' prince, since that had gone _so well_ when the last one stopped by.

 _Definitely the dress_ , she thought, trying not to roll her eyes as a comment on her wardrobe and taking care of it came up. Keith's 'dress uniform sessions' were always rough, but this one had been ludicrous. Having knocked her over, Keith had suddenly grabbed the bottom of her dress together and, somehow, had managed to tie it in a knot that she couldn't kick open. They had both been shocked speechless, until Keith burst out laughing, which she joined in on. How could she not? He had tied her into her dress.

" _I can't believe that worked," he said after controlling his laughter, shaking his head._

" _I look like a fat sea maid," she complained, grinning, as she tried to untie the knot. "And where did you learn to tie knots? This is impossible to undo."_

 _He had handed her a knife to cut the knot off—while advising that she always keep at least one on her at all times, of course—when Nanny had walked by. She hadn't said anything, but her face set in a particular cast that meant trouble. When she was out of earshot, Keith said, very quietly, "I think we're done. And we may want to make ourselves scarce…"_

As they neared the command centre, however, Nanny quieted down. But it wasn't because of anything Allura had said. Music was softly coming out, a soft tune plinked out on the strings of the _glita_.

Music was special on Arus, and there had been so little of it in the recent past.

As they got closer (Allura hadn't let down her pace, no matter the lack of a tirade from the woman following her), they could pick out the words, and the singer. It was Lance, who had a habit of singing when he was bored at the controls.

 _If you ain't got two kids by 21  
_ _You're probably gonna die alone.  
_ _Least that's what tradition told you._

He hummed a bit, keeping the tune without the words, before he picked up the song again—Allura thought it sounded melancholy.

 _Mama's hooked on Mary Kay.  
_ _Brother's hooked on Mary Jane.  
_ _Daddy's hooked on Mary two doors down.  
_ _Mary, Mary quite contrary.  
_ _We get bored, so, we get married  
_ _Just like dust, we settle in this town.  
_ _On this broken merry go 'round and 'round and 'round we go  
_ _Where it stops nobody knows and it ain't slowin' down_

He saw them in the reflection and stopped the song, though he fingers still toyed with the strings, plucking out meaningless melodies. Grinning lopsidedly he winked at them.

"Come to ease my punishment?" he asked as Nanny stiffened at the audacity of the wink. "I mouthed off a bit too much, and Keith's having me cover his and Hunk's shifts. Halfway through and I'm bored to tears."

Allura snorted. "You seem to be keeping yourself busy," she said, while thinking _that is an entirely_ too _apt song for him to just 'happen' to be singing._

Lance shrugged eloquently. "Passes the time." As the conversation continued along inconsequential matters, Nanny realized that Allura wasn't leaving anytime soon, and she was loath, at the moment, to continue the argument in public (or because Lance had continued his aimless tunes). Once she left, and Allura was sure out of earshot, her shoulders slumped in relief.

"Thanks," she said, having decided that the song was sung on purpose. Lance let out a brittle laugh.

"Oh, my pleasure," he reassured her. "My aunt badgered my cousin into marrying, which worked out in the end for Kate, but she had a horrible time of it until she met Lee. Aunt May had a rough time with my uncle, so never did get it. Always fun to tweak Nanny's nose as well."

She smiled; leave it to Lance.

"Besides…" he sighed and shrugged. "Ugh, just don't tell anyone I said this ok? It makes my skin _crawl_ , when she starts going on about that, especially after his royal snaky-ness paid a visit. Like, who is she to dictate your life? Gah." He pulled a wry face, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. "Just. Well, you know how much I like people telling me what to do. Isn't right."

Allura smiled wryly; well she did know how much Lance liked being told what to do.

"Your emotional response is safe with me," she assured him. "And thank you." She sighed, looking at the view screen. "How did you know we were coming?"

"Nanny makes more noise than a herd of buffalo and these halls echo," Lance snickered. "Couldn't make the words out until you guys were closer, but figured it had to be about your wedding, or how you were ruining your chances, especially after Hunk told me about the shit she's been giving you. That's why I couldn't remember all the words, not enough time." The last bit was said a bit reproachfully, causing her to laugh and profess her apologies. It seemed she had finally found something Lance took seriously. He raised an eyebrow.

"My old piloting instructor would have smacked me up the head for forgetting the words," he said. "'The music speaks to the soul,' he'd always say, 'the words to the heart, and if you're lucky boy, to the mind as well.'"

"Wise words," she said softly, and he nodded, a firmer tune coming out of the instrument. It too, was melancholy. He made a face and set the _glita_ down. Allura was about to ask him something when a wicked light came into his eyes and he started whistling a song that she _knew_ would have Nanny and Koran shouting from wherever they were in the castle.

It seemed that whatever the lyrics for the 'Drunken Sailor' were, Lance was hell-bent on singing only the ones that caused her turn bright red. Fortunately Keith always threw something at him before they got _too_ bad.

Mumbling her excuses, she hurried out as the first strains of _way hay and up she rises_ could be heard.

* * *

 _/ 1 week later /_

She collapsed on the couch that Hunk had set up in the garage, her entire body aching.

"You okay?" Hunk asked after a few moments; she groaned.

"My hair aches," she complained. "I swear, when I actually _do_ have to fight the Drules hand to hand, I'm going to be so exhausted that it will be no contest."

He chuckled sympathetically as he tinkered with something. She was too tired to poke her head up and look.

"I mean, I get that I'm usually running around in a dress, but does that have to mean I now have a double training schedule? Why doesn't he have you guys running around in _your_ dress uniforms, now that Nanny has decreed that you should have them and has made good on that?"

Hunk snorted. "Because he already made us go through that particular bit of joy," he explained. "Stars, that sucked. And he put himself through the same; not that it made much of a difference, once he figured out how it impacted his reach."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course it didn't."

"He did get his ass handed to him once, you know." Lance threw himself in the thing Hunk called a 'bean-bag chair', laughing at her incredulous look.

"That hard to believe, huh?" he grinned, "I'm sure he had plenty of practice, when he was living with his uncle. Anyway, in our first year, there was this one upper-year student in WaT. Guy was lightning-fast, took Keith down before anyone knew what was happening. Next time though," Lance shrugged, "Keith had figured out how to neutralize that, and managed to beat him after a good scrap."

He eyed her prone form. "We're supposed to be flying, but you look like you'd rather die than move."

She snorted, very 'unladylike'. "That's one way of putting it." Nanny was appalled at the habits she had picked up these past months; Allura didn't have the heart (or the energy) to tell her that half were bad habits she had just managed to keep hidden before the Drules came.

"We'll talk theory then," Lance nodded to himself, then looked over to Hunk. "You mind?"

The big engineer shook his head. "Nah. Could use the refresher anyway."

So Lance took her through the basic theory behind flying advanced 'craft, distilling his formal and informal learning of many years for her. He was patient, though not afraid to tease her into thinking through a concept she had asked a question about. And he handled her snapped answers when her temper frayed at the teasing. Generally by laughing though, which was not the biggest help.

He called a halt just as her brain was about to turn into mush, mentally and physically exhausted.

"Huh." Hunk said once Lance finished. "You're getting better." He ducked the bit of scrap metal Lance threw at his head.

As they chipped back and forth at one another, she decided she should probably get moving before her body entirely stiffened up. She sighed as she pushed herself off the couch, waving at Hunk and Lance as she headed for her rooms. A long soak was in order.

When she ran into Pidge sometime later, the little engineer practically jumped on her.

"Oh good," he breathed, shoulders relaxing. She raised an eyebrow.

"Keith and Lance had a huge dust-up just now," he explained. "Lance went to 'check up on' Keith, I guess a little after the flight time scheduled with you. He didn't say what exactly they fought over, but it's not that hard to guess what."

Allura sighed. "Probably about how Keith hasn't actually slept or taken care of himself for a few weeks now."

Pidge nodded. "Yeah, probably. I mean, he's been complaining about it to us, right? And Keith hates being nagged about this stuff when he's stressed, which is –"

"Exactly when he needs it," Allura cut in. She had figured that out, fairly quickly. "Where are they now?"

"Lance is with Hunk, still ranting likely," Pidge rolled his eyes. "I think I saw Keith head towards Black. Before he started ranting, Lance did say that Keith's at the point where he's going to start getting even more stubborn about this and injure himself. Apparently he did this a couple of times at Garrison…" Pidge sighed, shoulders slumping. "I tried to stop him, but I'd kind of like to live past tonight, and he looked ready to murder someone. Besides … he never talked to Hunk or me before—it was always Sven who got him to calm down and talk. Don't think he's likely to start talking to us either."

Allura felt herself tense. Pidge looked at her hopefully.

"I'll try," she said slowly, "But don't expect much. I'm not Sven."

"No," Pidge nodded, as if this was already set. "We know that. But Hunk and I still think you've got the best shot at getting Keith to stop being angry at Lance and to actually listen to what he's saying. If he won't open up, tell him that we're having a movie night and if he doesn't arrive on time, it's the whale movie."

She stared at him, and Pidge laughed sharply. "Long story. If nothing else, the threat will get him to tell it to you, and that'll get him to calm down some."

Leaving Pidge, she walked out to the plinth on which the Black Lion sat, upon whose head she could pick out a seated figure. Keith. She wasn't sure whether or not he knew she was there, so she called up. He didn't move, except to wave his hand back towards the castle.

Go away? Not without actually being ordered (and maybe not even then), and she knew he wouldn't do that. Misuse of authority, or something.

She winced, noticing how similar that thought was to what _Lance_ would have said.

As she examined the plinth, trying to gauge how exactly to get up without Keith's help, the Black Lion moved. Or rather, its tail did, draping over the plinth to hang down, almost like a ladder or rope.

"You might as well climb up," Keith's voice cut in, annoyed through the communicators they all wore now. "Black's decided you should, and I wouldn't advise arguing with him."

She snorted, grabbing a hold of the tail and pulling herself up. He had probably been arguing with the Lion since one of them noticed her making her way out, and Black was winning. Metal, it seemed, was obstinate chemically and socially.

Even with Black's help, it took her a bit to get to the top. Standing near one of the Lion's ears, she caught her breath and then promptly lost it to the view. Few of the towers in the castle were safe enough, still, to climb. She hadn't been this high up in years, and she had forgotten how beautiful her country was. So she stood there, silent, soaking it up as the wind cooled the sweat on the back of her neck, taking away the last of the moisture left in her hair from her bath.

Keith was silent ahead of her, eyes unfocused as he looked over Arus, and she was loathe to interrupt more than she already had. Finally, his shoulders loosened, and he spoke, eyes still facing forward.

"Thanks."

"For?"

He shrugged. "Just … thanks." Raising an eyebrow, she sat, stretching out her legs and leaning against Black's ear. Keith was on the edge of the Lion's brow, ahead of her by a few feet, and she let him have his space.

"Apparently we're having a movie night," she said after another few moments of silence, when it was clear Keith was done speaking. He groaned and leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands.

"And they threatened the goddam whale movie, didn't they?" his voice was muffled, but the annoyance behind his words still came through.

"Pidge did, yes."

"For fuck's sake," Keith spun around, his body tense as his temper returned, "And then I suppose I'll be subject to not-so-subtle hints about how I'm not taking care of myself?"

His frustration was clear, but Allura set her chin and matched his glare. No wonder this had gone so well when Lance tried it. Lance could do many things, but hold his temper in check was not usually one of them.

"I don't know about that," she said calmly, "But if your problem is with subtlety, you _aren't_ taking care of yourself."

Keith's eyes flashed, and a mulish look settled over his face as he pressed his lips together.

"When was the last time you ate a full meal?" she asked before he could say anything, starting to tick the questions off her fingers. She had done this for her father, back when the war with the Drules had first started and too many times after; Keith had no chance. Whether or not this was the right way to go about the matter would bear to be seen. "What about a good night's sleep—and a few, uninterrupted hours doesn't count if you woke up tired. Have you been able to take a mental break from all of this? When—"

"Alright, stop!" Keith snapped, throwing up his hands. "I don't know, I don't know, and no. Happy?"

"That you finally admitted this? Yes. That this had to happen? No. Look, Keith," she sighed. "I don't know about Lance and the others and what they would say, or have said. But I watched my father work himself to death trying to prevent this war, and then die, exhausted, in it. Do you want to do that to your team?"

It was a low blow, and she knew it even before a pained look shot across his face. Yet it was also one of the few things that he would listen to, and of those, it was the quickest.

She held his gaze calmly, and a breeze brought the sounds of the end of the day up to them—people laughing, snatches of children's songs. Black rumbled below them, the vibrations running through the metal, though not enough to shake them from their seats.

But then, Black would never let Keith fall.

She blinked quickly in surprise, unsure where _that_ had come from, but knew, somehow, it to be true.

Keith had turned away, missing her response to the great Lion's low growl, and was looking down towards the lake and the people gathered around it, heading into the castle. After a few moments, he sighed and stood, shaking his head as if to clear it while muttering something about meddling princesses, pilots, and pushy Lions.

"Come on," he held out a hand and pulled her up. "If we beat them to the garage we can pick the movie, and you won't have to watch that damn whale fiasco."

She smiled, crossing her arms before he could turn away. "And on the way?"

He rolled his eyes and blew out an annoyed sigh. "We'll raid the kitchen, and I'll eat something with every food group in it. And the movie will count as a mental break. That's two of your three questions; does that suit you?"

"Very much."

"Good. Now," he looked down and eyed the metal Lion below their feet. "Mind giving us a ride?"

Grumbling, Black slowly lowered its head, bringing them down to the top of the plinth. As they walked back to the castle, Allura gave Keith a long look.

"Has Black done that before?" The commander shrugged, nodding but saying nothing more. She decided not to push her luck and changed topic.

"What is so bad about this whale movie?" Keith groaned and launched into a very detailed account of just _how_ bad this movie was, particularly when forced to watch it multiple times and when you weren't allowed to make comments about why in the world the Kirk from all of Lance's stories had gone back in time to save a pair of whales from an aquarium when there were plenty of whales in the ocean at the time.

The movie did sound pretty awful, she conceded, but perhaps in a good way? At any rate, they made it to the garage in time to pick a movie and for Keith to finish his make-shift dinner. Hunk arrived with plenty of snacks not long after, and he groaned at their movie choice.

"Dude, really? We've seen that, like, a million times."

"It's either this," Keith said shortly, face stubborn, "Or I leave and spend the evening reading a book and your plans come to nothing."

Hunk just sighed and sat down, sinking into the bean-bag. Allura gave Pidge and Lance warning looks when they came in, and the movie started without further incident. It also, as it turned out, was a good thing the guys had seen it a million times, because Keith fell asleep halfway through.

"Thanks," Pidge whispered as they left, Keith still asleep on the couch with a few blankets thrown over him. She smiled.

"Let's just hope we don't have to go through this again," she said simply, and he nodded before heading to his quarters. She looked back at the dark garage, though, and bit the inside of her lip, worrying it as she suddenly wondered whether Keith would stop talking to her now, and whether or not he would start taking better care of himself.

Shaking her head, she sighed and turned the wing of the palace where her rooms were. No sense worrying about the former, she told herself, and tomorrow would tell for the latter. She also chided herself sternly for the concern about whether or not Keith would stop speaking to her, because it was a ridiculous thought. Wincing at the sternness of her internal voice as she reached her rooms, she tried to take her own advice and see what the 'morrow would bring.

A few days later, when she supposed Lance had gotten the full story, he pulled her aside.

"While I appreciate that you pulled out all the stops to get our fearless leader to start taking care of himself," he began, mock solemnly, "I am afraid that your bid to become president of the noble character club has, unfortunately, been unsuccessful."

"That is very disappointing," she replied, deadpan. He nodded, face solemn as his eyes danced.

"I'm afraid your pep talk, while coming from an admirable intent, did involve sinking to, for lack of better words, my level. Thus allowing Keith to edge you out in the final vote," he said formally. "But, we are happy to announce, the members still have confidence in your vice-presidential abilities."

She restrained the snort, barely. "The members being?"

"Me," Keith said shortly through the intercoms, causing them both to jump. "Lance, get your ass over here. You're late."

Rolling his eyes, Lance mocked bowed as she laughed.

"Until the next council meeting, lady Vice President."

"Good-bye Lance."

* * *

 _/ Two months later /_

Koran had announced that they could take a break on their comp shifts, as he now had enough people trained at the giant computer that there didn't need to be one of them there at all times; they just had to be on call. Lance had declared he could kiss Koran, which had stunned the older man. Keith had taken pity on him, assuring him that it was just a saying and that he didn't have to worry about Lance actually kissing him.

Although, after that, Allura thought that maybe Koran would have had to worry, if Lance had thought it worth the trouble to annoy Keith after he had made the assurance.

"Campfire Allura?" Hunk poked his head into the library, where she was idly flipping through a book.

"Campfire?"

"Yeah," Hunk moved his full body into the doorway, "Keith's got one going and Lance has promised a round of songs. And I," he grinned, holding up a pot of something, "figured out how to make marshmallows, so we can roast them over the fire. It's an old Earth tradition, possibly the best one."

She laughed. "Then lead on!" Relieving him of some of the sticks and bags of snack foods, she followed him out into one of the side courtyards, where the others waited.

"I invited the princess," Hunk called out as Keith waved, eyes on the fire in front of him, "So behave yourself Lance."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Right. Cause I'm the only one who gets in trouble for my language." He shot a pointed look to the diminutive engineer across from him.

"Technically," Pidge grinned, "I learned it from you."

"Technically, schmecnically," Lance muttered before eying the pot in Hunk's hands. "Are those the 'mallows? They better be good!"

Hunk just snorted as he set down his load, and Allura followed suit, though she looked over to Keith and Hunk (they being the most likely to actually answer her question) quizzically.

"Shmecnically?"

Hunk laughed, and Keith grinned, standing up and brushing his hands on his pants. "It's a made up word," the commander told her, "Children, and Lance, use it when they don't have anything else to say."

Lance rolled his eyes as she laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Now c'mon! Someone give me a pointy stick and a marshmallow."

Hunk obliged, spearing one of the pale ovoid candies on a stick and handing it over. He then passed one over to Allura as Keith speared two, one for himself and one for Pidge.

"So you want to wait until the fire has calmed down some, like this one," Hunk began, spearing his own and showing her how to hold the candy over the flames and slowly rotate it, "Otherwise the flames will set it on fire. Goal is to get it nice and golden."

Pidge's caught on fire, causing him to swear as he blew it out. "Amateur," Lance cackled, pulling back a perfectly golden marshmallow that he promptly shoved in his face. He shut his eyes his face a picture of happiness.

"Once you get it golden," Keith said, pulling his back from the fire, "You can either eat it whole, or," he paused and gently pulled on the hardened sugar casing, pulling it away from the gooey interior, "Just eat the outside and then roast it again."

She pulled hers back; it was golden, but not as evenly as the others' (excepting Pidge's firebomb) were. Hunk assured her it was a good first try and suggested eating it whole first, since it was her first marshmallow.

"That's fantastic!" she exclaimed, nibbling the sticky bits left by the marshmallow on her fingers. Hunk grinned and handed her another one.

When they'd had their fill, Keith added more logs to the fire so that it burned stronger (Lance had offered to help, but the long looks he got from the other three suggested there was a very good reason why he was not allowed to). Once the flames flickered high, Lance pulled out his _glita_ and began to play. He went through a range of songs, some of which Allura had heard him sing before, others that were new. His range was much broader than when she had last heard him play the instrument, and it sounded like he had figured out the majority of the chord structures.

Hunk and Pidge joined in for a few, and she noticed Keith humming a few bars here and there. So when Lance started singing one of the songs he had learned on Arus, she joined in and was awarded with a grin from him.

"Now we're a proper team," he announced after the song finished, "We've all sung together." He grinned lopsidedly as they laughed before raising an eyebrow at Keith, who sighed good-naturedly.

"Go on," he chuckled. "Might as well."

The tune was simple, slow and steady. Lance began, Keith nodding along and coming in near the end of the first stanza. His voice wasn't as strong as Lance's and a little flat, but the harmony between the two suited the song, she thought.

 _I was a highwayman  
Along the coach roads I did ride  
With sword and pistol by my side  
Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade_ (Lance waggled his eyebrows, and Keith rolled his eyes as he joined in) _  
Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade  
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five  
But I am still alive_

 _I was a sailor  
I was born upon the tide  
And with the sea I did abide  
I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico  
I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow  
And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed  
But I am living still_

 _I was a dam builder  
Across the river deep and wide  
Where steel and water did collide  
A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado  
I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below  
They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound  
But I am still around  
I'll always be around … _

_I fly a starship  
Across the Universe divide  
And when I reach the other side  
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can  
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again  
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain  
But I will remain  
And I'll be back again …_

Lance chuckled as the finals chords stilled. "Only song he'll sing," he told her, eyes bright in the reflected light of the fire. "Sober, that is."

He ducked the pebble aimed at his head as Pidge snickered.

"No one needs to hear those stories," Keith announced, to which the other three exchanged incredulous glances. Of _course_ they wanted to hear them.

"Oh I don't know," Hunk said slowly, smiling. "I believe we were promised some on the way over."

"Really?" Allura grinned widely.

"That was only to shut you up!" Keith protested as they all laughed. Lance snickered wickedly, enjoying himself immensely.

"Just remember," Keith cautioned as he opened his mouth, "All those stories you have on me? I have a _hundred times more_ on you."

"So? T'be expected," Lance said grinning. Keith just raised an eyebrow, smiling smugly. "Go on then, tell one."

"This is going to be good," Pidge whispered next to her, eyes bright. "Keith has been saving Lance's ass for _years_ , and I don't know half of the stories."

Lance looked over at them, and rolled his eyes. "You bastard, now they just want to hear the shit I got up to."

Keith looked pleased with himself. "I keep you around for a reason." The pebble Lance threw at him sailed past as Keith ducked and laughed.

"So this is a campfire?" Allura asked after the two got tired of heckling one another. Hunk nodded, mouth full of food, having broken into the other snacks he had brought. Pidge's eyes suddenly lit up.

"Guys! Ghost-stories!" Hunk groaned as Lance whooped, looking as excited as Pidge. Keith, who was sitting on her other side, leaned over.

"It's another part of the campfire tradition," he explained as Lance set down the _glita_ and rubbed his hands together. "Everyone tries to scare each other before the fire dies and we all head in for the night. Lance is quite good, though," he grinned and lowered his voice, as if inviting her into a conspiracy pact, "He spooks really easy."

Allura grinned and replied in an equally low voice. "Is that so? Well, I think I should be able to do quite well in this part of the campfire."

Keith winked and straightened. Lance began, shooting a suspicious glance at the commander before he lowered his voice and hunched forward, hands spread to tell his tale.

"Once, on a dark night not unlike this one…"

* * *

 _/ Several months later /_

If the Drules had hoped to find Arus easy, or at least easier, pickings with Sven's departure, they had been disappointed. She took a certain amount of grim satisfaction from that, proud of her ability to rise to the newest challenge posed to her in the war. Her body now bore a physical appearance to match the inner drive that had helped push her towards Keith's office on that night, all those moons ago. Lean with strong muscles, she could hold her own now against most in hand-to-hand, and her aim was equal to Lance and Pidge's, though she still preferred a bow to the guns that Lance loved and Pidge's knives.

It had been almost a year now since Sven had been injured and sent to distant Ebb, a planet now worryingly silent. But that was not the immediate concern. Doom had come calling, and so she stood in the command room, decked out in her royal finery, which now included the newly-edged sword that had once served as simple decoration for her father.

Zarkon's face loomed before her, the computer screen placing his image at an angle that required her to raise her chin to look him in the eye. Her chin was jutting out, not that she minded. So far, matters had not gone well, not that they had moved much beyond the usual circles of pleasantries and threats that always marked such calls between the heads of warring states.

"You bore me, little princess," he drawled, finally. "Let me speak to the Terran commander, or the advisor."

Neither Koran nor Keith batted an eye, or moved.

"You will speak with me, Zarkon," she countered, the little patience she had for the Drule king already spent.

"You are a girl," the drawl continued, and her anger turned into ice cold fury. "And I have little time for you to go to your advisors. I will not speak to the middle man; I am King."

"And I am Princess of Arus!" she snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. She heard someone shift their weight behind her; based on where the sound came from, she guessed Lance. Who was hopefully out of sight of Zarkon. "I am no middle man, Zarkon, but ruler of Arus. And thus your equal, whether or not you like it. Or," her eyes narrowed, "whether or not I think you deserve to be named king."

"Little princess," Zarkon thundered, his temper quickly rising at the insult, "Why should I deal with you? An inexperienced _girl_ , weak, whose father was not strong enough? When you shall run from the first blood you see?"

A pin could have dropped and shattered the world around her, creating waves of noise that would crash within the silence his words created.

A mere girl. The reminder stung, that this was how he saw her, fodder for his depraved son, a weak shield to be destroyed so he could take her planet and her people.

In that moment when the pin could have dropped, she steadied herself and fixed Zarkon's image with a disdainful stare.

" _Fool_ of a king," she began, slowly, almost lazily as she drew out the first word, "My father was a man, better by far than you, but a man. My body is built to handle pain you can't imagine without curling into a ball. You say I can't handle the blood of a battlefield? You who sit on a throne so high you can't even see the blood your Robeasts spill in your arenas? I would see more blood every moon turn, without leaving my rooms, than you ever see these days.

"You will deal with me Zarkon, because you have no choice. I deal with you out of expediency. Now say your piece," she paused, "Or stop wasting my time."

Zarkow regarded her steadily, audibly grinding his teeth before he calmed enough to answer her.

"You have two days to surrender," he began, but her snort cut him off.

"And you have one," she said simply. "That, or my father's position of 'go rot in hell.' It's your choice."

"Two days!" Zarkon thundered and cut the connection. An awkward silence filled the room until Monmerce chuckled.

"Well," he smiled, "That went better than expected."

"Yes," Koran smiled in return. "Well done, Princess." She smiled shakily, the calm she had felt quickly departing after the confrontation.

"I must say though," the old general paused and raised an eyebrow at Nanny, who stood silent near Koran. "I remember being told a similar thing when the subject of women fighting was raised after the first fire raid."

Nanny smiled sweetly and … savagely. "Well," she shrugged, "It is true. What man can handle the pain of birth or moon-blood?"

Hunk burst out laughing, "Not many, if any," he conceded, chuckling. The others grinned, and Allura laughed.

"You turned beet red after that," she teased Monmerce, who was, again, blushing. And he wasn't the only one, she noticed, amused.

"Zarkon certainly took off quick," Pidge commented, fiddling with the computer controls, trying to control his own blushing. Lance snorted.

"Duh," he grinned wickedly. "Princess told him he was weak because he doesn't get a period every month. Don't think responding to that is high in the Drule 'how to behave' manual."

"Which," Keith chimed in, matching Lance's grin, wickedness and all, "Forbids honour duels with women. You shamed him Princess, and he can't do _anything_ about it."

She smiled suddenly overwhelmed at the feeling of victory, short lived as it might be. As they milled about, Monmerce, Keith, and Koran musing about what Zarkon might do, Nanny slowly walked over.

"That's my princess," she said softly, embracing her. "All grown up now, stronger than even her father." When she stepped back, tears pricked the edges of her eyes, a proud smile on her face. Smiling back, Allura squeezed her hands and then turned to join Koran and the others, who stepped aside to admit her into their discussion on what, if anything, would happen next.

"Hey Chief!" Lance called over, "We got time to celebrate?"

Keith was about to answer, when the warning siren cut him off. Sighing, he shook his head.

"Looks like the scaly bastard wanted to catch us unawares while we were debating how to surrender," Pidge grumbled. "No way that freaky-ship just got launched; it's been waiting."

Nanny cleared her throat in warning, but Pidge's muttered apology was lost in Keith's order to make ready.

As she hurtled towards the Blue Lion, Allura found herself grinning. She had done it.

She was, finally, fully, the Princess of Arus.

* * *

A/N: Songs are _Merry Go-round_ by Kacey Musgraves and _Highwayman_ by Johnny Cash with Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings.


End file.
